


When Naughty Met Nice

by MaudeZbornak



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Inspired by Twitter, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaudeZbornak/pseuds/MaudeZbornak
Summary: Inspired by a prompt on Twitter: "Where’s the AU where Rey writes a letter for Santa asking for some company for Christmas because she’s tired of being alone but she’s kinda drunk so she misspells ‘Santa’ and the letter finds its way to Satan instead and he’s not busy so he shows up in her living room."Only in this one, he shows up in the bedroom.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 128





	When Naughty Met Nice

_Date: Dec 15, 20--, 08:17:32_   
_To: Satan_   
_From: Santa Claus_   
_Subject: RE: This year’s naughty list_

_S--_

_Please find attached this year’s Naughty List attached in Excel format. Let me know if another format is preferable and I’ll resend if needed. You’ll notice it's a bit longer this year; it tends to happen when a specific political party has control of the House and Senate in the U.S. :-)_

_Also, it’s come to my attention that a letter from someone on the Nice List has made its way into your possession. Please forward said missive from one Rey Skywalker at your earliest convenience to our main office so we may send it on to Fulfillment._

_All the best,_   
_S. Claus_

He studied the email on his screen for a full minute, then glanced down at the letter in question, resting on his desk. The last thing he’d expected to receive in his mail was a Christmas wish, and when he saw the envelope addressed to _Satan_ Claus he naturally surmised the poor sender had committed a grievous misspelling. People asked things of them, to be certain, but those wishes typically involved hexing ex-lovers and horrible co-workers. Never before had anyone written him begging for a Christmas gift.

A tall order, too. Tall, dark, handsome...that was Rey Skywalker’s type if her letter to him, rather Santa, indicated. He read the letter for the hundredth time since its arrival, brushing his thumb over a dried tear stain that created a droplet-shape wrinkle in the paper. Rey had been good, she promised, and she was lonely. Her friends had all paired off over the past year, leaving her cold and looking to battery-operated devices to get her through the nights. “Just a nice, hot fuck for Christmas, is that too much to ask?” she’d written in slanted, almost illegible cursive.

He held the letter close to his face. The blended aroma of ink and rum had faded, overpowered by the stench of sulfur that permeated the offices here. He hated it, longed to bring in an oil diffuser and encourage a more pleasant atmosphere, at least where he worked.

Rey’s letter, at least, took his mind off the environment. He switched windows on his monitor to bring up her file. An attractive woman, dark hair and intense eyes. Lips badly in need of a kiss. On the Nice List since birth, for all the good it did her. Who could gaze into those smoldering eyes and expect her to be satisfied with a scarf and pair of mittens, or whatever the hell passed as Nice gifts in this century?

He picked up his phone. This required a conversation, not an email reply.

“Claus,” answered the old man.

“How are you, Kris?”

He could feel the jolly fat man sitting up straight in his chair. “Scratch, hello. Is there a problem with the file?”

“It’s fine. I’m calling because, you know...the world’s been through enough shit this year that I was thinking of taking the Christmas week off.”

“How generous of you.” Santa’s voice sounded cautious.

“Seeing as how that gives me some free time, I’m also thinking that I’ll give you a break and take care of Rey Skywalker’s Christmas wish for you.”

Silence. Then, “You know the rules, son. I don’t interfere with the Naughty List and you keep your cloven hooves off the Nice folks.”

“I don’t have cloven hooves, or horns,” he barked. Honestly, one ancient artist makes their own interpretation of his appearance and everybody holds it to gospel. “Anyway, it’s Christmas, and I’m infused with the giving spirit for once. Look, I’ll even trade you somebody on the Naughty List to call it even. How about,” he clicked open the spreadsheet and let his gaze fall on the first name to stand out, “Sheev Palpatine?”

“Rudolph’s nose! Forget it. I might as well give _you_ a gift.”

Yeah, that was a stretch. Palpatine wouldn’t know what to do with a Nice gift. “Fine, somebody on the bubble this year then.” He scrolled to the bottom. “Here. Armitage Hux. He was a few points off. He’d have made it this time if not for that incident on the freeway.”

“I don’t like this,” Santa said. “Rey doesn’t deserve Naughty.”

_Says you_. “She won’t receive the standard Naughty gift. I know a promise from me isn’t worth much, but I do know the rules. I know what happens if we break them, but let’s say this year it’s a _bend_.”

When Santa didn’t respond, he added, “If, after Christmas, you feel Rey Skywalker was treated unfairly, I’ll refrain from my usual Valentine’s Day schedule.”

“Really?” He imagined Santa thinking about all the broken hearts that stood to be spared. “You’d give Cupid a coronary.”

“One night, one gift.” His voice deepened. “You afraid I’d do your job better?”

“Ho, ho, hell no.” Santa laughed. “Okay, Scratch, you’re on. Rey Skywalker better be smiling on Christmas morning.”

They rang off, and he reached into a side drawer for a stack of IDs, used on trips above world. He shuffled the deck until he got to the U.S. driver’s licenses and selected one from Rey’s home state. Yes, Ben Solo would work for this trip.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“She’ll be smiling. Oh, count on it, old man.”

***

_Christmas Eve_

Rey felt a hand on a shoulder. It tugged at the collar of her jacket, and instinctively she pulled the lapels tighter around her throat.

“I’m leaving,” she said, gaze fixed on the door.

“The party just started,” Finn said.

“You’re drunk, Finn. We’ve been here since closing, and it’s almost midnight.” She shrugged free of her friend’s grasp and turned to study his glazed smile. She loved the man, but damn if he couldn’t hold his holiday cheer. The glass mug handle looped around his finger slid around, and spiked eggnog dribbled to the floor. “You need coffee.”

“Stay, Rey.” He then snorted, attempting to laugh at his rhyme. “We haven’t done the gift exchange yet.”

_Don’t remind me_. She hated this tradition at the holiday office party. Every year she ended up with the lamest gift. This time around, she gave zero thought to her own contribution to the pile. Some lucky bastard was going to unwrap a movie theater gift card and she refused to be there to witness it.

She looked past Finn at the revelry. Everybody was soused and dancing badly in the open concept office space of the agency. Since few to no clients required their services at this time, the agency was officially closed through New Year’s. Rey had more than a week’s vacation ahead of her, to be spent in her pajamas watching Hallmark movies and crying into her frozen dinners. This party only served to remind her of her loneliness.

Everybody brought their partners tonight. Finn had Poe. Kaydel had Beaumont. Even Rose, whom Rey thought would join her in spinsterhood, had hooked up with a new guy. His name was Armitage, and all through the evening he’d looked at his companion with amusing disbelief. It was as if the guy couldn’t believe his good fortune at finding an amazing lady.

Rey sighed. She’d put in an appearance, eaten a few finger sandwiches and now she wanted to go home. Instead, she removed her coat. “Okay,” she told Finn, “I’ll stay for the gifts and then I’m off.”

An immediate regret. The music turned low for the ceremony. Rey picked her number from the hat and, at her turn, opened up a wine box containing her favorite Merlot. Just when it appeared things might be going her way this Christmas, her co-worker Phasma opened the final gift.

Per the rules, she had the option of switching gifts with anyone. Rey watched helplessly as Phasma relieved her of the wine and handed her the box of condoms some jackass had donated.

“The gift that keeps on giving,” Phasma cracked.

_Fuck you_. Rey took her coat from the rack and dressed. The party raged back to full volume.

Rose caught up with her at the elevators. “Rey, it’s too soon to leave. You know what could happen.”

Rey checked her watch. “It’s after midnight. I’m sure Santa’s been by with my scarf and mittens. I’ll be fine.”

“What if you get home and catch him?”

“I’ll tell him what I think of his gifts.” She waved the box of rubbers in her friend’s face. “You want these? I imagine they’re more useful to you.”

Rose flushed. “We’re not there yet. What about your letter? Santa will come through.”

Rey thought about the letter, written in a fit of drunken exasperation. Like hell would the jolly elf gift her with a man to warm her bed for Christmas. Nice list meant Nice gifts.

She glanced through the glass walls looking into the agency. Most of her co-workers were Nice recipients, Rose included. They always seemed content with what Santa gave them. Phasma was a Naughty one, though, and never volunteered what ended up in her stocking.

Funny how the woman never expressed disappointment come Christmastime, though.

Maybe catching Santa off-guard might move her down the list.

She kissed Rose on the cheek and dashed into the elevator. “Merry Christmas. Gotta run.”

***

“Hello?”

It was weird to call out to her own empty apartment, and she immediately wanted to kick herself. Catching Santa in the act of gift-giving constituted an immediate remand to the Naughty list for a year, and stealth was the key to trapping the old man. She’d just given her position away, leaving him time to escape.

She slung her coat on the sofa and slammed down the condom box on her kitchen pass-through. _Damn it_. She hoped the mittens fit this time.

“In here.”

Rey gasped. _Santa?_ Blood pounded hard in her ears. This was it. _Naughty list, here I come_. What Santa was doing in her bedroom was anybody’s guess, though. If the elf had a kink, she didn’t want to know. She needed the Naughty, even if it meant giving him a pass for bad behavior.

Candles glowed on her dresser and highboy, giving off scents of vanilla and sandalwood. Her bed comforter was turned down, and a bottle of Merlot like the one Phasma had taken from her stood on the nightstand with two glasses. A garment box festooned with a bright red ribbon rested on the bed; inside Rey found a lacy black chemise with a note.

_Try it on. Be with you soon._

No signature. Surely Santa himself didn’t write this? The note rippled in her trembling hand. That Santa had read her letter was clear, and now that her wish was happening...it frightened her. Anybody could be coming with the remainder of her gift. She was Nice, and Nice didn’t fuck strangers.

But she’d asked for it, in a moment of lost inhibition. She had to trust Santa to see the gift through.

“Anytime you’re ready, Rey.”

She looked around and saw nobody. _Right_. She had to get dressed, move this fantasy forward, and her gift would come.

Then so would she.

“Just a sec,” she said, and ran back to fetch the condoms before slipping into the bathroom.

***

As he waited, he recalled the last time he’d come above world for a hookup. The queen had been accommodating and passionate. Shame about her library burning down. He glanced at the books on Rey’s nightstand and imagined his last mortal lover might have enjoyed the romances as well.

The bathroom door snicked open and he positioned himself in her bed. Sitting upright, sheets covering his stripped lower half. He thought to stick a bow somewhere on his person but nixed the idea. The wine, on the other hand, she might appreciate.

Rey emerged in the chemise and gave him a start. The sheer, shadowy fabric revealed her delectable shape. In the glow of the many candles lined around the room, he noticed her dark nipples against the lace. The sight of her posed in the doorway, radiating carnal hunger, caused his own body temperature to ratchet up a few degrees.

He was used to heat, but this moment overwhelmed him. He took a second to center himself. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

He reached for the wine bottle. “I heard you like Mer--”

The force of her landing on the mattress shook the headboard. He lost his grip on the wine bottle and it toppled to the carpet with a dull thud. Rey straddled his lap and threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair. The surprise attack left him with his mouth agape, and she took the advantage with a hard, long kiss.

This woman made the Nice list? This woman, now invading him with her tongue and stroking him frantically from face to chest to points south. This woman, wearing nothing underneath that wisp of lace, writhing on his thighs and coaxing his cock to life.

The Naughty folks could learn today.

She broke free of his mouth and kissed a trail from his cheek down to his throat and back. “Holy fuck, you’re huge,” she said, panting.

He tried to speak but she pressed his face into her cleavage. One thin strap of the chemise drooped to her shoulder and she steered him to the exposed breast. “Suck my tits,” she ordered, and hissed out her approval. “Yes. Just like that.”

He loved the taste of her. The heady scent of her skin and the candles eased him into a rhythm that matched her enthusiasm. She was too excited, touching everywhere and wanting every sensation at once. She’d override her own orgasm if she wasn’t careful; he knew he had to bring her down a notch before she exploded.

He slid his hands up her thighs and grasped her bottom, moving her back to give her space to stroke him. Once her nipple hardened in his mouth he worked on the other one while she mewled for more.

Rey pulled on his cock, attempting to mount him. He kept her pinned in place. “Please,” she begged. “I want to ride your cock.”

He released her nipple and looked up at her. “No,” he warned. “You’re the Nice one. Tonight you finish first.”

***

Boom. She was on her back.

Her gift hovered over her and clutched the tiny black bow on the bodice of her chemise with both hands. In one heave he ripped the thing apart and appraised her head to toe. She watched his body, the way his shoulders and arms tensed supporting his weight, the way his hair fell over his face...until he jerked his head to flip it back. 

"You look incredible," he said what she was thinking.

"Uh huh."

He laughed. "You should take it slow. You might miss something." In demonstration, he took his time stretching back into child's pose and lowering his face between her thighs.

He was just..beautiful, and she’d fallen into lust so quickly she hadn’t bothered to ask his name first.

Let the details wait. It wasn’t like he could talk while he licked her pussy.

_Oh, Merry Christmas to me_. Her breath came in short spurts, a poor attempt to contain her excitement. Rey dug her nails into her palms to confirm this was happening. She knew if she didn’t relax into his tongue circling her clit she’d never climax, and as much as she wanted to watch him she closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her.

He slid one finger into her, then two. He hooked his fingers and beckoned inside her, all the while lapping upward in broad strokes. She guessed he was looking for that magical spot, one she doubted she had, because she never _ohmyfuckingglobwhatishappening_.

She fisted the sheets. She arched her back and screamed, and yet he kept his mouth on her. He had to grip her with both hands at the waist to settle her, and once she came down from the sexual high she swore the man left prints on her.

Red, with steam curling from her skin.

He knelt upright and grabbed his cock. Hard and thick and veined and _get in me now_. She regained use of her legs and rolled over to rise on her knees, ready to ride. “Shit,” she remembered, “I left the box in the bath--”

He stretched out his left arm and something shot straight into his hand. Rey’s jaw dropped, speechless as he calmly took a condom from the flying billfold and rolled it on his prick.

“Now,” he said with a smile and sat back. “Watch the headboard this time?”

Yes, much more fun to build up the sexy than collide into it. Rey crawled over and straddled him, and bent low to kiss the base of his cock, then up his chest until their mouths met again. She groaned into him as she seated herself, loving the way he stretched her.

He sat up, tightening their embrace. “Holy hell, you have a sweet pussy.”

“Your skin is on fire.” She ground her hips against him.

“You have no idea.”

***

By noon, they’d used half the box.

Spent from their most recent tumble, Rey lay on her side facing away from him, hair askew and snoring lightly. He arranged the sheet so that it covered her at the swell of her hip, teasing the slightest look at her luscious bottom. He’d gotten to know it well over the course of the early morning, along with the rest of her.

Her body, anyway. Her passion stirred a longing in him that he’d long suppressed, a desire to be with somebody. His current situation didn’t permit for relationships, though the more he thought about Rey’s letter he knew it was wrong to assume what exactly she wanted.

She’d clearly expressed having companionship for the holiday. Nothing was said about afterward, or happily ever after. The only way he’d know for certain was to actually talk to her.

That was probably the one thing they hadn’t done since meeting.

He sipped his wine and watched her stretch and keen and wake up. She rolled over and the sheet slid down further. The temperature outside had plunged to the teens yet she lay in bed like she was sunning in St. Tropez.

“Ben Solo,” she said.

“You know my name. That’s good.”

“Your wallet’s on the floor by me. It was open to your driver’s license.” She thanked him for the wine and sat up to drink.

"I need a few more minutes, but maybe tell me what you'd like next?" he asked. "Reverse cowgirl?"

"Maybe later."

"Scissors?"

She shook her head. "I can't get off that way."

"The spork?" 

"I've never even heard of that one."

"Then we have a winner." He drained his glass.

She nodded, then asked, "So, when do you go back to Santa’s workshop?”

He heard the sad twinge in her voice. “I don’t really work for Santa. I work from home, so to speak,” he said. “I suppose it’s up to you, and how long you can stand me being around.”

“I’m not bored yet.”

You say that now.” He held out his arm and she snuggled into him. “Tell me, how do you feel about having a demon with benefits?”

“What list do I have to be on to get one?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “Doesn’t matter.”

***

Down below, a lesser demon entered the private office to clear out the trash and deliver the day’s reports. As they were about to leave, the flash of a neon sticky note affixed to the monitor caught their eye. It read: _Everybody take off ‘til New Year’s. Merry Christmas._

The demon left the trash behind.

***

Christmas morning at the North Pole was always subdued. After a long night of work, everybody wanted to sleep in and not think about the work ahead. Santa settled into his favorite chair, kicked off his boots, and sighed contentedly at another job well done.

Mrs. Claus joined him with cocoa, and he told her, “It appears, my dear, I have won.”

“Oh?” she asked coyly. “Scratch gave you that dear girl’s letter?”

“Well, no, but that’s not what I meant. You bet that I wouldn’t be able to get Scratch to surrender a name from the Naughty list. Look what happened.” He brought out his phone and called up a specific set of coordinates. The screen opened to reveal Armitage Hux holding a sprig of mistletoe over his head while kissing his new lady friend. “A much better gift than what Scratch had in mind, I’m sure.”

“Quite,” his wife agreed. “What about Rey Skywalker?”

He called up coordinates to reveal the young woman in her kitchen, happily cooking an enormous breakfast.

“Looks like it all worked out.” His smile fell. "But he offered to call off his V-Day antics if he failed. I hate to see all those broken hearts."

“Look at it this way,” said Mrs. Claus as she watched Santa call up the Nice list and put checks by Armitage’s and Rey’s names. "Sometimes a broken heart leads to much needed healing."

“True. Well, another year in the books. I’ll collect my winnings later.” He winked.

“Very well.” Mrs. Claus watched him drift off to sleep in his chair, then opened her phone to her own version of the Nice list. She scrolled down to Ben Solo’s name and put a check.

“Yes,” she said quietly to herself, “sometimes we need a little Naughty to stay Nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas. This was written in a day because I couldn't get the prompt out of my head. Please forgive the brevity.
> 
> I've recently set up a Twitter (@maude_zbornak) and would love to chat with fellow Reylos.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please look for my work in progress, In Focus.


End file.
